I still have the occasional dream,
Of things I can no longer do,
People I can no longer see.
I've cut them off from my thoughts so they have no where else to go but my subconscious. Subdued, taped up and packed in boxes and old drawers, the pieces purposely misplaced and pictures burnt and/or torn, but they're still there. My little hell that still burns behind my eyes, that takes residence in my skull, that I try my best to forget about. I try to distract myself, avert attention, but honestly things still thrive in there. Alive and well, my hell has full attendance